


The Wrong Sort of Man

by Xochiquetzl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Class Issues, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:44:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xochiquetzl/pseuds/Xochiquetzl
Summary: Narcissa enjoys Severus' company, even though--or is that because?--he's the wrong kind of man.





	The Wrong Sort of Man

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Princess of Geeks for the beta!

If Narcissa was really honest with herself--something she tried not to do regularly, as it was a bit unnerving--she'd admit that the thing she liked most about Severus Snape was how angry her parents would be if they knew she was dating him.

She stretched a little against her light blue satin sheets. She had her entire flat in light blue. It set off her coloring; she even looked pale in pastels. There was no sound except for Severus' soft breathing next to her and the sound of rustling sheets. A charm muffled the city noises outside. A vase of red roses stood on the nightstand, their heady scent fighting with the smell of sex. Her inner thighs were slick and slippery. Her parents would be even more upset if they forgot their contraceptive charms. She smirked.

A poor Half-Blood who grew up in a Muggle slum, with only a Mudblood for a friend. And from what he'd said, his father really was the worst possible kind of Muggle: a violent drunk who looked down on witches and wizards. Apparently, his father didn't have any more respect for his non-magical betters, either: he was a socialist. A drunk, unemployed socialist who beat his wife and son. Her parents would have an absolute fit, even though Severus was the victim. He hadn't chosen his parents, after all.

She glanced at his shoulder. They'd have a fit if they saw that Muggle tattoo. A crow. Appropriate. She smiled.

It was unfair, she knew. Unfair of her parents to blame him, and unfair of herself to get such a thrill from how much they would hate her doing this. Severus had so many traits to recommend him: the brilliant mind, the fathomless dark eyes, the soft, skilled hands. The quick, dark wit. The vulnerability he didn't let most people see. Such a wonderful lover. She thought of the feel of his mouth, the feel of his hands, her arching beneath him, and she closed her eyes and licked her lips. Delicious. Brilliant at everything he attempted, including lovemaking.

And yet, here she was, lying in bed next to him thinking smugly how angry her parents would be if they knew. He deserved better.

She rolled over and looked at his sleeping face, hair tangled over his eyes, his lips soft and parted. He was a bit thin, with prominent collarbone and elegant wrists. She imagined waking up every morning with him, with him grumpy and sleepy like he always was in the mornings. It was a crime that a man like this had been born poor and needing to get up in the mornings and work. He could have devoted his life to experimental potions on his own schedule if he hadn't needed to worry about money. Such a waste!

She had money.

She couldn't marry him. Her parents would disown her. There was no way she was going to go live in that horrible Muggle slum where he was raised.

And somehow, being told that she couldn't have something made her want it all the more.

She rolled closer and he snuggled in closer without waking up. She stroked his hair and kissed his cheek. His skin was surprisingly soft. He mumbled something and nuzzled into her neck, snuffling. She smiled.

If she married Lucius, he'd probably let her keep sleeping with Severus. After all, they were lovers, too.


End file.
